


Ad Coquendum

by ProneToRelapse



Series: Demons & Domesticity [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Baking, Connor is a vicious PTA mom, Demon Connor, Domesticity, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life, misuse of whipped cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15389622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: Demons aren't known for their baking skills.





	Ad Coquendum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meaiku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meaiku/gifts).



> i fuckin knew i'd end up writing a sequel. demon connor was just too good to write once and not continue. expect more of this because i am BACK ON MY BULLSHIT.
> 
> The title means "to bake" in latin.
> 
> Follow me on twitter. My hankcon rants are legendary @gayandfae
> 
> Happy Birthday, Meaiku! <3

Connor is  _fuming_ _._

The righteous fury of a demon is something to behold. The walls of the house crack and shake as the energy of Connor’s wrath bleeds like shadows through the concrete and brick, sending tremors deep into the foundations. His eyes are black and soulless, his hands curled like claws and fangs bared in sheer, unfiltered  _rage._ Blood seeps from his forehead where his horns begin to push through the skin. He’s dangerously close to splitting through the seams of his earthly form. 

“Any particular reason for the temper tantrum?”

The house stills and settles, the monstrous shadows shrivelling up and withdrawing back into Connor’s natural silhouette. He turns to face the man standing in the doorway with an amused expression. Connor straightens up and brushes flour off of his apron. 

“I’m not having a  _tantrum_ ,” the demon says tersely. “My irritation is completely justified.”

“You were terrifying the neighbours,” Hank says, stepping into the kitchen to place a soft kiss on Connor’s sticky cheek. “Oh, chocolate.” Hank grins and gives his cheek a wet lick, drawing out a reluctant laugh from Connor as he pushes him away. 

“Cole’s school has a bake sale tomorrow,” Connor tells him, wiping his hands and face on the hem of his apron. “And I absolutely  _refuse_ to be outdone by Janet again.”

Hank moves to dip his finger into the bowl of cake mix on the side. Connor slaps his hand away. 

“I didn’t think a demon would care about the bake sale,” Hank says, rubbing his smacked hand. 

“I normally wouldn’t. But Janet’s son is Martin and I hate him.”

“Oh, the little prick that tackled Cole during soccer practice?”

“That’s the one.” Connor scowls. “I’m half tempted to poison the cupcakes. No one hurts my son like that.”

Hank grins and pulls Connor into a hug. “You’re so cute when you’re overprotective. And scary.”

“’M not cute,” Connor mumbles into Hank’s neck. “What are you doing home, anyway? Late lunch break?”

Hank gives Connor’s temple a quick peck and moves away to grab some kitchen towel to dab away the drying black blood on the demon’s forehead. “Nah, Fowler let me take the rest of the day off considering I worked over the weekend.”

“Oh, that was kind of him.” Connor picks the bowl and whisk up again. “That means you can give me a hand. This schichtortte is taking up a lot of my time. Are you any good at creaming?”

Hank gives Connor a dirty grin. “I mean, I like to think so.”

Connor elbows him. “I  _meant,_ are you any good at creaming  _ingredients._ I need you to help me make buttercream icing and I don’t have time to do it all myself.”

“Immortal being that can bend space and time to his will, defeated by simple baking skills?” Hank grins and dances out of the way of Connor’s pointy elbow before he can dig him in the ribs again. “I’ll help. Just let me get changed. And hey, if we finish on time, we can take Cole and Sumo to the park when we pick him up.”

Picking Cole up from school hand in hand with Hank is one of Connor’s most ardent pleasures in his new earthly life. It’s a rare occurrence given Hank’s working hours, but that just makes it all the more special when it does happen.

“As lovely as that sounds,” Connor says, whisking so furiously his hand is a blur, “Sumo is in the doghouse right now.”

“Oh, what’d he do?” Hank calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bedroom.

“He ate an entire platter of cupcakes that I left on the side to cool.”

Hank’s laughter drifts pleasantly through the house and the sound of it is enough to douse the last simmering embers of Connor’s earlier ire. Mollified, Connor finishes whisking the mix as Hank heads back into the kitchen in sweats and his favourite hoodie, rolling his sleeves up to help.

Under Connor’s guidance and recipes read out from the tablet propped up against the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, the rest of the afternoon passes in a relaxed flow of soft, playful laughter and sugary kisses. Having Hank helping out means that Connor has to make double the mix to make up for what his boyfriend eats, but it’s a fair trade off when Connor is able to lick the sweet mixture from Hank’s lips and watch that lovely blush creep up his cheeks.

Only a few hours later, Connor has an artfully decorated array of cupcakes, cookies and the prized shichtortte carefully boxed up on the side away from Sumo’s hungry jaws.

“They look great,” Hank tells him and Connor beams with pride. “Janet and her store-bought bullshit can fucking suck it. Can I take some of the leftovers to work? Show the guys how great my boyfriend is?”

“Aww,” Connor says, touched. “Of course you can. But I'll bring them in during lunch. I don’t trust you not to eat them all on your way in.”

“I’m insulted?” Hank gasps, laying a palm against his chest as though reeling from a mortal blow.

Connor grins. “You’re insulted because it’s true.”

“You’ve  _wounded_ me, babe. I’ll never recover.”

“Of course you will,” Connor croons, stepping up to Hank to stroke his palms suggestively over his chest. “I’m sorry I insulted you. We have just over an hour before we have to collect Cole from school. Let me make it up to you.”

Hank’s eyebrows raise, interest piqued. “And just how do you intend to do that?”

Connor smiles wide, little pointed fangs bared mischievously as he reaches out to pick the bowl of leftover whipped cream up off the side. Hank’s eyebrows raise further and Connor enjoys the thrill of watching the human’s pupils expand. Without another word, Connor heads towards the bedroom. Hank follows him without a moment’s hesitation.

Connor gave up a lot when he joined Hank in the mortal realm. Nothing he particularly misses, like the ability to flit between here and nether, or the visceral need to make bargains and claim sacrifices. He’s gained so much more in return to be thankful for. A life, a home, a son, someone he loves more than there are stars in the sky. Being on earth here with Hank is the closest Connor has ever felt to being celestial since his fall. Funny that he should fall twice in his life. Once to damnation, and a second time in love. He doesn’t regret either.

Once their clothes are gone, Hank feels so warm and so  _alive_  under Connor’s palms and he can feel the intoxicating rush of blood through the human’s veins, the hum of Hank’s perfect soul in every atom of his being. Hank shudders under Connor’s tongue as he licks over his chest, pointing his tongue to tease a nipple before sucking it past his lips. The rough groan he gives in response prompts a low growl of want to rumble through Connor’s throat as he chases the heady taste of Hank’s skin beneath his mouth.

Hank’s fingers twist into Connor’s hair, tugging lightly to elicit that soft, mewling moan than Connor can never stop from slipping out. Hank’s cock is already hard, filling out against the inside of Connor’s thigh, and he rolls his hips down to press their cocks together as he reaches for the bowl on the nightstand.

Hank watches with rapt attention as Connor paints his chest and stomach with the cream, hardly breathing as Connor works over him like an artist, painting shapes that only he can see. Once Connor is finished and Hank starts to wriggle a little at the cold sensation from the cream, the demon puts the spoon down and settles himself between Hank’s legs, starting his slow exploration of Hank’s chest with the flat of his tongue, licking away the cream with long, lazy strokes.

If the contrast of cold cream and hot mouth wasn’t enough, the pleased little moans Connor gives with every swipe of his tongue sure as fuck help the whole scenario. Hank’s eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head back, unable to do much else other than  _feel,_ driven half mad by lust and sensation as Connor moves slowly from his chest to his stomach, to his abdomen, moving inexorably down with a clear final destination. 

Hank give a wordless shout as Connor sucks his dick into his mouth, hips bucking instinctively into that tight, impossibly wet heat. Connor gives a satisfied moan that ripples through Hank right down to the tips of his toes, stealing the breath from his lungs.

“Fuck,” Hank gasps, pushing his hand back into Connor’s hair. “Fuck, baby, that’s so good...”

Connor preens, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he hollows them out and pulls off with a firm suck, tongue curling tantalisingly around the tip. Hank shudders, fighting the urge to thrust up into that willing mouth, instead gripping the bed sheets with his free hand as if to ground himself.

A low purr rumbles through Connor’s chest as he swallows Hank’s cock back down, eyes pitch black as he gazes up and Hank through his lashes, the softest pink blush dusting his cheeks. Hank’s gonna go blind one of these days. Looking at something so fucking beautiful for so long.

“C’mon, baby,” Hank grunts, scratching lightly at Connor’s scalp and shuddering when the purr sends a stronger vibration through Hank’s groin. “I want to fuck you.”

Connor gives a low moan of delight before pulling off with a wet pop and clambering up to straddle Hank’s thighs. His cock is straining, curved up against his pale stomach, flushed and needy. Hank gives it a soft stroke, palm pressing against the underside to push it against Connor’s abdomen thumb rubbing slowly against the vein running along the length of it. The demon gives a soft shiver, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth.

And then he’s kneeling up, arching gracefully, and sinking down, down, taking Hank’s cock in one slow, steady slide. Hank grits his teeth against a groan, pushing his head back into the pillows and arching his own back. Connor whines above him, nails scratching deliciously down Hank’s chest.

“Hank...” Connor purrs, mouth slack and eyelids fluttering, words gusting out in one breathy gasp. He rolls his hips slowly, shivering as Hank’s cock drags along his insides, deep and thick and pressing against all the right places.

“Go on, baby,” Hank gasps, hands sliding over every inch of Connor he can reach, fingers rippling over the delicate bumps of ribs beneath creamy, freckled skin. “Take what you need. I want you to feel good.”

Connor stutters out a breath as he moves his hips faster, hands gripping Hank’s thighs for balance and leverage as he grinds down on his cock, shuddering with panted gasps as Hank’s cock drags against his prostate with each sinful roll of his hips. His head is thrown back, pale expanse of throat bared and Hank can’t stop himself from sitting up, hands sliding round Connor’s waist, and  _biting._

Connor lets out a soft cry, grappling at Hank’s shoulders as he grinds in his lap, cock pressed between their stomachs. He writhes desperately, caught between grinding down and arching forwards into the dual points of pleasure. Hank sucks hard at the skin caught between his teeth, littering Connor’s throat with pale blue bruises.

“Hank,” Connor stutters, chest flushed and heaving. “ _H-Hank-!”_ He drags a ragged breath through his cheek, stiffening and crying out as he spends between their stomachs, clenching round Hank’s cock and wringing his orgasm and the breath out of him in one, hot rush that surges through his gut like fire.

Connor goes boneless in Hank’s arms, peppering Hank’s face with soft, needy little kisses that Hank returns happily, catching Connor’s lips as often as he can, chasing the featherlight kisses with soft laughter.

“We need to go,” Connor says, resting his head on Hank’s shoulder. “But I don’t want to move.”

Hank hums and kisses Connor’s neck. The bruises and bitemarks are already fading, sadly. Still, one of them has to be responsible, and for once it’s Hank’s turn, so he lifts Connor out of his lap, ignoring the soft keen that makes his softening dick give a valiant twitch of interest. “Go clean up,” Hank says like he’s the voice of reason. “I’ll get you some clean, less floury clothes.”

Connor gives him a grateful kiss on the cheek and Hank tries not to watch the way he pads across to the bathroom, come trickling down between his thighs. He fails. Badly.

It doesn’t take long for them to get ready once they start moving, and they’re ready to go only a few minutes later, looking more presentable and not flour covered and post-coital.

“If Janet is there, I won’t be held accountable for my actions,” Connor mutters and turns to sumo, hands on his hips. “Those better be here when I get back,” he warns the animal, pointing to the cakes on the side. Sumo boofs softly, tail giving a brief wag. Connor nods, appeased. “Good. Make sure you do.”

“I don’t know if I'm more scared or fascinated that you can talk to the dog,” Hank says, leading out to the car.

“You talk to the dog, too,” Connor points out, sliding into the passenger seat. “It’s just that I can understand what he says when he answers me.”

“Demons,” Hank mutters with a fond shake of his head. Connor glows like it’s a compliment. “So, still feel up to a walk in the park?”

“A brief one,” Connor says, shifting a little in his seat with a faint wince. “I’m not quite as resilient as I used to be when I was fully demonic.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not at all, are you?”

“Nope. Come here.”

Frowning slightly, Connor leans over so Hank can wrap a hand round his arm. His breath catches as Hank’s tongue flicks out to lick just under his jaw. Connor’s eyes are wide when Hank leans back looking smug.

“You missed some cream,” Hank says, starting the ignition.


End file.
